S.J. Sylvis

Ice Bet

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My mouth fell open at the jab. I could fool anyone with my blasé front of hating hockey players, but I couldn't pretend I didn't feel the sting of that insult. I was too focused on ignoring the irrational hurt to continue listening to their conversation, only catching snippets here and there. "So it's settled. Whoever gets to her first, wins." They were assholes. Every one of them. "Are we talkin' sex or what?" "We should do a point system." A point system?! As if I were a game? My palms stung with the clenching of my fists. "Ice bet secured."

"So it's settled. Whoever gets to her first, wins." "But you have to do so without Coach finding out." "Obviously. We will all keep it on the down low." "Are we talkin' sex or what?" «We should do a point system." The hotter the act, the more points you get.

Winner gets her. There's no need for anything else. For fuck's sake. Let's make an ice bet." I stayed hidden and cursed under my breath. An ice bet was the oldest trick in the book. It was an unwritten tradition that I had thought died down but apparently not. It was considered hazing, and not only did Coach have a no-hazing rule, but Bexley U itself had a zero-tolerance policy for it. My heart picked up speed the longer I listened.

Ice Bet

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